


Number 43

by Minirose96



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, PWP, bit fluffy, fifty reasons for sherlolly sex, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minirose96/pseuds/Minirose96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because she said she loves you and you’re not ready to say it back yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Number 43

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justmindy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmindy/gifts).



Molly was used to waiting for things. She waited five years for Sherlock Holmes to ask her for dinner instead of solving a case. She waited six months after that for Sherlock Holmes to pin her against a wall and and kiss her into oblivion before dragging her to his bedroom. A year after that he asked her to move into his flat, despite her already being there four nights out of the week and having most of her things there already. 

Waiting had never been an issue. But, for some reason, she couldn’t hold her tongue for just a little longer. There wasn’t even a big cause for it. She’d been reading in the living room, curled up on one side of the couch. It was a nice, quiet day. No cases, no threats against England. Just a simple day in.

He’d brought her a cup of tea, muttering something about him having made too much for his own cup - as if he needed the excuse.

She’d raised her head from her book and muttered three simple, little words. “I love you.” 

That had been about an hour ago, and he was still… staring. At the spot that she’d vacated about forty minutes previously. She was starting to get worried. Had he even blinked in the last hour?

She sighed softly, and went to stand in front of him for what must have been the dozenth time. She held his cheeks lightly and lifted his gaze to meet hers. “It’s okay, Sherlock. You don’t… the words don’t matter, I promise.”

He blinked. Once first, then several more times in rapid succession, reminding her a little too much of a robot that was trying to reboot. 

He’d moved so quickly, she barely had time to brace herself before she was lifted up. Her legs instinctively wrapped around Sherlock’s waist as he tilted her head down to kiss her soundly.

She felt him moving them, but he kept her from looking to see exactly where he carried her. His hands caressed her bum through the shorts she’d worn for lounging around the flat.

It wasn’t really much of a shock when he tipped her down onto the bed before following shortly after. 

He kissed and caressed, allowing her to do little more than feel, live in the experience. Slowly, skin was uncovered. Her tank-top peeled up and thrown aside to reveal a plain old black bra because it was a plain old day. Sherlock traced its edges with his tongue as he unbuttoned his own dress shirt until it hung open.

When Molly tried to touch, to draw her fingers down his chest, he grabbed her wrists together and held them above her head for just a moment before he let go. A silent request that Molly accepted with a soft sigh and a nod.

Sherlock rose up for just long enough to shuck off his shirt and toss it aside.

He leaned over her and his lips kissed hers delicately. His lips traced a path across her left cheek to her jaw. He kissed everything he touched. Her pulse-point jumped under his tongue, her breathing hitched as he outlined her collarbone.

He unlatched her bra, and she raised her arms just long enough for him to slip it off of her before she let them fall back into place above her head. 

Her stomach quivered with anticipation as he continued his descent down her body. His hands caressed her sides as he drew spirals with his tongue on each of her breasts, stopping just short of her peaks each time. 

She let out a soft whine as he finally latched on, sucking and gently nipping the bud of her right breast as his hand cupped and teased the other.

Much as she loved it, she began to realize as he worked his way down what he was doing. What he was saying, in actions rather than words, just as he always had.

‘I love you’ was in each stroke and caress of her skin. It was in each kiss, each pause that was sure to leave a bruise from his lips, dotted on her breasts. It was how he pulled her shorts and panties off slowly, reverently, his hands caressing her thighs as he slid them down and tossed them aside. It was his gaze, deep blue with pupils blown as he met her eyes before tasting her. It was his tongue, pressing and prodding and coaxing the first orgasm from with slow, deliberate motions until she was mewling his name and bringing her hands down to tangle in his hair to pull him up for a kiss. It was him removing his own trousers and  pants and sinking into her slowly with a groan.

  
He wasn’t very good at saying how he felt. Molly knew that. But he showed it with every action, from how he worshiped her body to how he brought her a cup of tea while she read. He might never be able to say it properly, but that was okay. Molly purred it into his ear with every thrust, and he returned her words with a fresh kiss every time.


End file.
